The Parcel
by SherlocksCastle
Summary: John Watson receives a parcel that contains, among other things, a pair of red pants. This submission is for the FYJFF Red Pants writing contest. Sherlock/John W.


John was pacing repeatedly past a large brown paper wrapped parcel, which was sitting by itself on the kitchen table. Sherlock was leaning against the door frame, his eyes following John's movements as he openly listened in on John's phone call with his mother.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, I just don't need anything..." John spoke into the phone.

"No and I did, I loved getting pieces from home.."

"It's just I am not in the military anymore Mum, I don't need..."

"Right I understand that but you still don't..."

"I know it's only locum work but I am still a doctor."

"Yes, I have a flatmate but it doesn't mean I need help..."

"Well, yes of course the flatmate helps but that's the point of.."

"Mum, I am doing fine..."

"I am right here in the middle of London not in some desert, I can buy my own things from now on!"

"Sorry, sorry. Of course I appreciate it, and you know I love you and dad. Yes, yes alright, thank you. I love you too Mum. Okay, I really am fine, good bye."

John rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, dropping down heavily onto one of the kitchen chairs. He watched as Sherlock slid from the doorway to the table and began to inspect the parcel.

"Another care package from your mother I take it?" Sherlock asked as he pulled out a pocket knife from his trousers and began to cut the tape on the box.

"You know, it wouldn't be so bad if she treated me like an adult and sent me items that were actually meant for, you know, an adult." He sighed again as he watched Sherlock begin to pick through the care package.

"So she's already preparing the next one then?" Sherlock asked with a knowing smile as he pulled out a tin of chocolate biscuits. "I am glad to see that you held your ground with her this time."

John leaned over and snatched the biscuits from Sherlock's hand with a disgruntled look on his face.

"Come now John, I thought you didn't want her to send you childish things, I was merely helping you." Sherlock smirked as he loomed over the table, continuing to rummage through the contents of the box.

John snorted "If you are just going to laugh at my expense you can buy your own damn biscuits, and make your own damn tea for that matter". John got up and clomped over to the stove and began to noisily start the kettle boiling.

Sherlock , with an arm and half a head in the box , spoke in a low, casual tone, "John, I find this whole endeavor fascinating. It informs me as to what you were like as a young boy. Since your mother is clearly still shopping for you as if she thinks you are still 8, it gives me a rather good idea of what you must have been like, not that I didn't have a clear idea already. "

John could practically hear the self satisfied smile Sherlock made after that comment and just rolled his eyes as he focused on the kettle.

"So wait a moment," John said turning from the stove to face Sherlock, "This is just a case study to you then? You are not just being a wanker and trying to steal my snacks? And why would you care to know what I was like as a boy?"

"I want to know everything about you John, you know that." Sherlock huffed this simple fact causing John to pause and stare at Sherlock as he tried to consider what that might mean. Sherlock looked up after a moment, "You know John, since your making tea anyway and we already have the biscuits out..." Sherlock gazed sadly at John.

" Yes, yes fine. I'll make you tea you manipulative bastard, I've already got the water boiling anyway. You can have 2, okay fine, 3 of the biscuits and no more... so stop shooting me sad puppy dog eyes or I really will stop making you tea. Probably." John looked a bit unsure as he stood staring down thoughtfully at the kettle. John shook his head in resignation as he moved about the kitchen, gathering the two tea cups and the sugar bowl and desperately trying to block out the whining calls of Sherlock repeatedly trying to get his attention.

"John... John. .. John. ..Look at me. John... John... John...John"

"What do you want you impossible wanker?" John slammed two tea cups down on the table as he turned to face Sherlock.

"Is this the source of most of your jumpers?" Sherlock asked as he pulled out a particularly soft looking though garishly colored white and red jumper.

John reached over and grabbed it out of Sherlock's hand.

"Will you please leave my stuff alone? " John asked tersely of Sherlock as he absently began to pet the new jumper in his hands, " ...well this is rather nice though isn't it? It would go fine with a pair of jeans or..."

"I thought you didn't want this, or any more of her care packages... and wait... you aren't planning on actually wearing this are you?" Sherlock asked as he twisted his body over the kitchen table and swiped the jumper back from John. "You do realize I have to be seen with you on a regular basis? There is only so much my wardrobe can do to elevate your own. However, even my excellent taste has its limits and I believe you have found them with that jumper." Sherlock proclaimed while shoving the offending jumper at John's face.

"Listen you git," John pushed Sherlock's hand out of his way, "just because I don't want my mum to send me care packages doesn't mean they aren't mine. Look," he said as he pointed to the label. "My name, and look," as he stabbed his finger again at the box, "my mum's name, so this is mine. And that jumper was sent with love, and it feels rather nice and soft." At this he grabbed the jumper back from Sherlock and threw it on, shoving it hastily over his head ruffling up his hair in the process. "So just leave it alone, alright?"

"Ah yes, the wondrous feel of polyester. Is that the feeling of your mother's love John?" Sherlock leaned over to openly caress and admire the jumper as it stretched over John's bicep, while at the same time offering several mocking oohs and aahs. Sherlock deepened his voice and rumbled "Man made materials, how very modern of you John."

John yanked Sherlock's arm back with great force, nearly toppling him over. Sherlock quickly straightened gracefully and looked disdainfully at John.

"Oh just shut up, if I give you the biscuits will you just go away and leave my box of love and shame alone?" John forlornly asked.

Sherlock shrugged noncommittally as he took the box of biscuits and put them by his tea, leaning over so that he could continue to silently go through the box as before.

"Old Maid, John?" Sherlock asked as he pulled the card game out of the box.

John sighed and took the cards from Sherlock, "The downtime we had Afghanistan, well , we didn't have as many options as we do here. It was nice to get new games and toys at the time. I remember she sent over this electronic golf putter. You would swing it at an imaginary ball and it would display how well you did on the handle. We started to see who could send their ball the farthest. I did pretty well, I had the farthest shot for a while." John smiled and puffed up his chest slightly.

"Really John?", Sherlock sighed condescendingly as he stood fully upright. "You had your imaginary ball go further than anyone else's and your proud of this?"

John deflated a little bit "Well, we didn't have a golf course with us, and it was fun, you know, just relaxing with my mates."

"Ah, social bonding exercises, tedious. And weren't you just saying your mother was sending you too many childish things?"

"Yes, well, in some circumstances," John cleared his throat," its, well, its fine, umm, well its good. Its just , you know, a bit of harmless fun. You know my mum just sends a mix of things she thinks I might like or enjoy, you know some things for fun, some things I can actually use, like anyone's mum would do really."

"What about these?" Sherlock reached his hand back into the box and pulled out a new pair of red pants with white trim along the seam. "What category do these fall under?" Sherlock asked while quirking his eyebrow.

John's face flushed hotly and his ears started to turn pink as he made a grab over the table to try to reach the underpants.

Sherlock merely rose the red pants over his head with a smug, thoughtful expression on his face.

John lunged further across the kitchen table, but Sherlock was able to keep the pants just out of John's reach. Straightening up to stand at his full height he demanded, "Sherlock! Give those to me now!"

When Sherlock didn't respond, and merely stood by the table studying John, John saw red. John attempted another hard scramble over the kitchen table, knocking the parcel over and onto the floor. Sherlock merely stepped back a few paces with a slight smirk on his face.

John slowly looked around, having discovered his full body was now laying on the table, and Sherlock had backed up enough that he was no longer within John's reach. He slowly slid, with as much dignity as he could muster, off the table. He strode over, standing firmly in a military stance in front of Sherlock. John was red in the face and furious, his eyes not quite meeting Sherlock's. "Give those back now Sherlock." He enunciated slowly and clearly, and held out his hand.

"But John," Sherlock looks down at John, still holding the underpants raised over his head, "I just asked a simple question." Sherlock looked as if he was studying the underpants thoughtfully while he raised his other hand to fully spread out the pair of red pants in his hands. Sherlock stared at John until John looked him in the eye. "What category is this in? Is it for pleasure? Or did you tell her you desperately needed underwear in the style any 5 year old would be proud to wear?"

John stood silently, looking both angry and confused as his eyes darted between the bright red underpants hanging over both their heads and Sherlock's softly mocking face.

"Is this the type you used to wear, or do you still wear this kind? Though I think even someone without my observational skills would have noticed this style in the hamper before. Or did she just get it to match that lovely jumper you are currently wearing?" Sherlock added with a sneer.

John looked down and jumped a bit. He had forgotten he had put the new jumper on. He looked startled for a moment , looking from the sweater to the pants and then he started to laugh. He laughed a few hardy guffaws that turned into giggles every time he looked at Sherlock holding John's new knickers in the air.

Sherlock looked at John with increasing concern. He slowly lowered the underwear from over his head, glancing around speculatively, as if just now realizing what it must look like if anyone came in. John grabbed onto Sherlock's waist as his giggles subsided.

"Underoos," John said smiling, "I used to wear Underoos."

'What is an Underoo and why would you ever wear one? How does it fit in with our current conversation?" Sherlock stared quizzically at John , as if unsure he was okay or if could even be trusted.

John started giggling again. "Of all the things I know more about than Sherlock Holmes does... I win in the category of Underoos." He started to full on laugh now, having to lean his head onto Sherlock's chest as he struggled for breath.

Sherlock looked down in concern, patting John's back in an awkward manner with the hand that was still clinching the red pants.

"John?" Sherlock said uncertainly.

"Yes, yes, I am fine now." John replied as he pulled away from Sherlock. He raised the sleeve of his new red jumper to wipe his eyes.

"Underoos were pants and a t-shirt set with the pattern of a superhero on them. You know how most superheroes looked like they ran around only in their knickers? Well some company made pant and shirt sets when I was a kid and I loved them. I had them all, black ones for Batman and bright red with the big S on the chest for Superman. The sets would get mixed up a lot in the wash but the red I wore the most because It wasn't as big a deal if the Flash was wearing Superman's pants but obviously the Flash could not wear Batman's black pants."

"Obviously", Sherlock said, looking at John like he was trying to decipher gibberish.

John just looked up at Sherlock and giggled again. "I figured as a kid it was okay if Aquaman sometimes had red pants instead of green, that no one would really care because it was, you know, Aquaman." John smiled up at Sherlock.

"So she bought you the pants and jumper as a set?" gesturing with his free hand to John's new jumper "For fond childhood remembrances? Was she actually trying to have it match the sweater?" Sherlock looked confused by the entire topic.

"What, oh um" John shook his head fondly, pulling himself out of his thoughts as if he just remembered Sherlock was there, "I don't know if she bought them to be a set or not but I am pretty sure she bought me those pants because I used to wear ones similar to those as a kid. I just didn't make the connection to my old Underoos until you put the jumper and pants together. I wore the pants by themselves more than with the top they came with. My mum used to buy me bright colored pants to match without having to buy the whole set again. I can't believe I forgot about that," John laughed again, grabbing onto Sherlock's arm to steady himself.

"So do you plan to wear them?" Sherlock asked, his hand no longer patting John, but merely holding him in place.

"Hmm, what was that?" John had a faraway look to him, as he shook himself out of it to pay attention to Sherlock once more.

"If they give you such fond memories, do you plan to wear them?" Sherlock asked as he nudged the pants into John's side.

"Oh, well, I hadn't thought about it, really." John mumbled, looking vaguely uncomfortable as he belatedly realized he had been clinging onto Sherlock during his last fit of giggles.

"You are already wearing the jumper, John.' He stated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, well that's a jumper, and besides I don't even know if those are my size." John twisted around and yanked them out of Sherlock's hand. Instead of hiding them he began to look at the tag inside for a size.

"They will fit you though they are a bit small, you have certainly gained a little weight since you came back from deployment ." He slowly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he examined John.

"Yes, well, the whole getting shot thing slowed me down for a bit." John replied defensively, lowering the pants in an attempt to shield himself from Sherlock's scrutiny.

"Did she send you ones like these before?" Sherlock suddenly gasped then grabbed John by the shoulders holding him still and examining John's face intensely . "John, did you wear red pants under your uniform?"

"She sent me loads of things while I was in the military," John said evasively as he shoved the red pants in his back pocket, not quite meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"But ones like these John?" Sherlock stepped closer into John's personal space, leaning his head in while his right hand moved forward and plucked the red pants out of John's pocket.

John stepped back a couple spaces until his legs hit the table, head bowed and mumbling "It's hard to remember everything she sent me." He then stared up at Sherlock defiantly. "Wait a minute. Why do you care? When did underwear options become an acceptable topic among flatmates?" John scoffed, "You act as if you want to see me in them."

"And if I did?" Sherlock closed the gap between the two of them, bringing John closer until their chests were touching.

John stood up straighter, shoving his face into Sherlock's, his whole body vibrating in anger. "No, you're just having me on. A big joke at my mum and my clothes . You already took the biscuits. Just get your big nose out of the kitchen and out of my stuff!"

"But what if I did John? What if I really wanted to see you in them?" He looked down thoughtfully into John's still red face. He did not pull back at all from John, and continued holding his shoulders with an almost bruising force. The force with which he held John was the only visible sign he gave of the rising tension between the two of them.

"Why would you want to?" John said looking confused . "You are a brilliant, amazing , insufferable, arrogant prick whose just having me on. " John began to get angrier with each word he said.

"I could never laugh at you John." Sherlock said in a quiet, serious tone.

John snorted, "Yeah you could."

Sherlock smiled ruefully, "Yes well," tilting his head slightly in acknowledgement, "but not about this," Sherlock lifted his hands and gestures between the two of them... "not about us"

"Us as in, us us? As in more than just friends?" John looked uncertainly at Sherlock.

"Yes John," Sherlock said quietly as he gently placed his hands back onto John's shoulders.

"Do you want us to be more than colleagues?" John asked as he glanced at Sherlock's hands.

"Yes John," whispered Sherlock as he gave John's shoulders a slight squeeze and then reluctantly loosened his hold.

"I know you care about me, in your own way, more than you do for others, more than I've seen you with anyone else really." said John as he lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck as he tries to sort it all out. He accidentally knocked into Sherlock's hand in the process, which temporarily froze both of them. "But is it more than that for you? Do you care, like actually more than just regular caring?" he said as he lightly pressed his hand so that it overlapped Sherlock's long fingers and stared into Sherlock's eyes.

"Your word choice and sentence structure is truly overwhelming me, but yes, I care about you more than others." He intertwined his fingers with John's and cautiously rested his forehead against his partner's.

"So umm, if I was , to say the same to you, that I umm, cared more for you, and more than as just a friend , where would we go from there?" asked John.

Sherlock stroked the side of John's face with his free hand and pulled John those last few millimeters forward for a gentle kiss. John pulled back after a few seconds and stared up at Sherlock.

"My suggestion would be for you to let me to see you in those red pants," Sherlock said with a rakish smile, still holding onto John's face. He gently ran his fingertips in light swirling patterns over John's skin.

"Not a joke, this is for real for you too?" John hesitated, realizing what he just said, and what he gave away. "I mean," John stuttered, "is it real for you?"

"Not a joke, I want to see you in those tight red pants," Sherlock said with a grin as he pulled John closer for another light kiss, their lips barely brushing.

"I thought you said they fit," John huffed indignantly and pulled away so that he could fully scowl at Sherlock.

"They will fit, they will just be exceptionally tight. I find that thought does not bother me so much" Sherlock said while giving John a lecherous grin. "You can even keep the jumper on for now, but it won't be staying on." He leaned into John for a deeper, more urgent kiss. Both of them wrapped their arms tightly around each other, while John slowly traced Sherlock's cupid's bow with his lips.

"How about we make a deal?" John asked as he pulled back a bit, but still kept his arms around Sherlock.

"What kind of deal?" Sherlock asked as he narrowed his eyes and studied John's face.

"My red pants for your purple silk shirt." John said, laughing playfully.

"Yes, I noticed you liked that shirt" Sherlock responded smugly.

"And your coat, with the scarf." John added quickly.

"If you keep adding more clothes, then you are going in the wrong direction. Though if you insist on my coat then you no longer need your new jumper." said Sherlock as he grabbed the jumper by the hem. He dragged it over John's torso and threw it on the floor. "Much better. So, you like my coat?" Sherlock purred into John's ear.

"I don't like your coat Sherlock, I love it. Nobody can dramatically swish a coat like you can, I believe it's almost a superpower."

"Ah, like those superheroes you were mentioning earlier?" Sherlock frowned down at John, "I do not dramatically swish my coat John, it just moves with me. I can't help it if.."

John cut him off with another kiss. "You do swish, and you also twirl your coat." John talked louder as Sherlock tried to object. "Don't think I haven't noticed you waiting to remove it until someone else is in the room. All that dramatic effect would be wasted if there was no one there to see it. Besides you could be like Batman. You know the 1960's telly version of Batman who wore purple and swished his cape."

"John, I am not Batman." Sherlock stated in complete seriousness.

"No, no, of course not, but if you had to be a superhero he fits you best. White, tall dark hair, brilliant, rich.."

Sherlock cut John off, "John I am hardly rich."

"Trust fund!" John sang out. "You catch criminals while working with the police and if there ever was a more cartoony villainous man to have as a nemesis than Moriarity then I don't know 'em. But he would probably be called The Professor or some such title in the comic book world." John looked thoughtfully as he considered the similarities between Sherlock and Batman.

"So Moriarity gets his own title and I get shoe horned into Batman? You do realize that this makes you Robin," he replied, and poked John in the chest. "Though I must say the role rather suits you." he stated, looking at John rather appreciatively.

"Damn, okay fine, you are your own superhero... The Detective. Able to frustrate and annoy villains and police alike. Who would I be then, if you know enough about superheroes to give an answer? And don't say Robin."

"Well, you do play the side kick role but if you limit me to heroes that's easy, Aquaman". Sherlock began to count off the reasons with his fingers as John gave an indignant shout. "He is a tanned male with blond hair, a complete goody two shoes, plus he eats fish."

"No, that's just no. And a lot of people eat fish not just me." John sputtered, "Why does that trait link me to him?" John shook his head in firm denial. "There is a very clear line in any relationship and it clearly states you cannot call your boyfriend Aquaman. I rather be called Robin than Aquaman." John grumbled.

"I have not had many relationships before you John but I am fairly certain the "not calling your boyfriend Aquaman" discussion never came up."

"That's because your previous partners obviously already knew that rule." John declared with a fierce nod.

"Obviously." Sherlock stated then grinned. "Boyfriend?"

John blew out a lungful of air, "Yeah, boyfriends." then smiled shyly up at Sherlock.

"You know John, with the red pants you could be The Flash."

John groaned and thumped his head against Sherlock's shoulder. "You did not just do that."

"Do what? Both make a superhero joke and offer up horrible innuendo?"

"Yes that. Wait. How do you even know about superheroes? It seems like something you would have deleted." John asked without bothering to look up. He had discovered the comforts of laying against Sherlock's chest and feeling the rumbling that came from it as his partner spoke..

"That case you so unfortunately named the "Geek Interpreter"...really John." Sherlock gave John a displeased look, and John merely looked smugly back at him. "The knowledge of certain "geek" subcultures became essential knowledge." Sherlock relaxed more into John's arms as he got to lecture him. "How about we move this discussion to the bedroom where you can show off your new red pants and you can try to convince me to change my vote? What are you willing to do to prove your super hero equivalent should be one in the top tier?" Sherlock rumbled into John's hair.

"So you're saying you can be bought?" John asked, giving Sherlock a mischievous look as he rubbed his hands lower down Sherlock's back.

"By you in those pants, oh yes." Sherlock pulled John into a soul crushing kiss then quickly released him, twirled around out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom.

"Come along John" he shouted over his shoulder, still clutching the red pants tightly in his hand.

John hesitated for a moment. "Why do I always follow you?" he huffed as he jogged to catch up to Sherlock.

"Because you love the excitement I bring and because it's me" Sherlock stated without turning around.

"True'" John said simply, stopping in the middle of the living room to stare after Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around, having realized John had stopped following him. "And why do I want you to follow me?" He asked holding out his empty hand for John to take.

"You love a willing, appreciative audience, and because it's me" John reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand.

"True." Sherlock tightened his grip on John, pulling him faster into the bedroom and shutting the bedroom door closed by pushing John up against it.


End file.
